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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27290662">born in love, produced by fear</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlphaBanana/pseuds/AlphaBanana'>AlphaBanana</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cunnilingus, F/M, Idk i think that's everything, Jealousy, Makeup Sex, Making Up, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:55:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,901</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27290662</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlphaBanana/pseuds/AlphaBanana</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jealousy (n.)<br/>"A sentiment which is born in love and which is produced by the fear that the loved person prefers someone else."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Detective/Mason (The Wayhaven Chronicles), Female Detective/Mason (The Wayhaven Chronicles)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>76</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>born in love, produced by fear</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It is a small gesture, really. One taloned thumb dragging along the lush expanse of Riona’s lower lip. Barely a flirtation, at least in Mason’s normal repertoire. But it is enough to make Mason tense as if someone had blown a foghorn in his ear, and it is all he can do to suppress the snarl that threatens to rip from him at any moment.</p><p>The Agency needs the treaty. <em>His team </em>needs the treaty. He can play nice with Falk until they get it.</p><p>It is only when Unit Bravo are alone that he lets himself sink into the low, burning anger that pulsates in his gut.</p><p><em>Falk</em> had touched her.</p><p><em>She</em> had let him.</p><p>And what was worse, her pulse had skipped as he had done it.</p><p>Riona has never been able to hide her heartrate from Mason.</p><p>Mason scowls through the rest of the meeting, looking through the smoke he normally no longer needs <em>(he is blocking out more than sounds and smells, so much more)</em> at how she smiles at Nate, and how even Adam returns her smile as if she hadn’t just—</p><p><em>Hadn't just</em> <em>what</em>?</p><p>When he walks her to her car, she is still excited about her success, but he can see her shoulders start to rise as she notices the anger rolling off of him in waves.</p><p>Riona clears her throat, and the way she is now <em>awkward</em> with him is the final crack in the dam.</p><p>“I suppose you’re pleased.” He tries to keep his voice light, unaffected, but the ugly snarl that seems to have taken root in his throat rears its head, and he doesn’t miss her flinch.</p><p>“Well, we have the treaty.” Riona is a much better actress (or, she <em>thinks </em>she is, but Mason can hear the blood rush more insistently in her veins, can see the muscles in her pretty little throat tighten as she swallows anxiously), but even she falters. “Mason, I don’t under—”</p><p>“Is it common practice in negotiations to get touched like that? Maybe <em>I</em> should apply for a treaty.”</p><p>Mason can hear her begin to grind her teeth, and he drinks in the sound, the idea that she is getting as worked up as he is.</p><p>“We needed the treaty. People could have died. I did what I thought would help.” And even though he can hear that her answer is as sweet and honest as she is, it isn’t enough for him and he flicks his cigarette away into the undergrowth so he can lean closer to her (as is his almost constant instinct, even now).</p><p>“You’re an agent, not a prostitute.” A lazy smile, one meant to wound (<em>she started it</em>) and he leans in closer. “Although, if you’re offering—”</p><p>Her hand cracks across his face, and it’s only when the ache starts to fade that he sees the tears standing in hazel eyes.</p><p>“How <em>dare</em> you?” Her question is quiet, strangled under the weight of something Mason does not want to name (and isn’t sure he can), and he sees something break in her eyes.</p><p>“You don’t <em>get</em> to be jealous.” Oh, she is <em>angry</em>, now, nostrils flared and tiny fists clenched, and he would laugh if her words hadn’t lashed out at him with as much cold precision as her palm.</p><p><em>Jealous</em>. Is this jealousy? Is that the name for the claws scraping at the base of his stomach? For the chill that has seeped into his spine? For the way his heart feels like lead in his chest?</p><p><em>No fucking way</em>.</p><p>“Jealous? I’m not fucking—”</p><p>Riona cuts short his disbelieving scoff, barely listening to him as she levers open the door to that monstrosity. “Good. Because as you keep telling me, we’re <em>just</em> fucking.”</p><p>She gets in, folds her perfect little body into the car and he feels his throat strain at the anger in her voice, cold and unfeeling and so unlike her that he wants to shake her and demand what she has done with his Riona, soft and warm and—</p><p>And not hurting.</p><p><em>That’s all on you</em>.</p><p>“Or, we <em>were</em>, anyway.” He is so bound up in a feeling that tastes like <em>grief</em> that he only registers what she said after she has shut the door, and he feels his cold, leaden heart slam to the floor.</p><p>“Riona—”</p><p>And he can’t explain the feeling in his stomach, roiling snakes with a searing venom that makes him want to <em>die</em> <em>(but death would be too quick a punishment)</em>, as he watches her drive away.</p><p>--</p><p>She is avoiding him, he knows that. What’s worse (if anything <em>could</em> be worse) is that everyone else seems to know it too.</p><p>He has hardly seen Felix, so often does the younger agent offer to spend time with Riona instead of leaving her with Mason, and Adam is colder (were that even possible) and stiffer with him, angry in his own way. And whether Nate knows what Mason said or whether he is so protective of his little mini-me that he’ll defend her regardless, even Nate is cold and sarcastic, and that hits like a punch to the gut.</p><p>Eventually, though, after almost a month, she is back at the Warehouse, and while his senses are sighing in relief at the feel of her scent in the air, his nerves are <em>shot</em>, and he feels Felix’s eyes on him as his fingers shake grappling with the lighter.</p><p>“You shouldn’t smoke in here.” Were it another day, he would be tickled by Felix having spent enough time around her to have actually felt <em>responsible</em> for anything. Now, the implication that he would smoke with Riona there stung.</p><p>“I know.” Mason’s curt response wasn’t enough for Felix, and he leaned forward on the plush sofa, amber eyes blazing.</p><p>“It hurts her chest and she—”</p><p>“Felix, I <em>know</em>. I just need something to—”</p><p>Mason doesn’t feel himself stand as she enters the room, but suddenly his spine is ramrod straight as he looks her over, looks to see if she is alright, and the blank look in her eyes when she stares back at him rips into him like knives.</p><p>The meeting passes by in a blur, his eyes on her frame constantly, even when she looks over at him and swallows, and before long she is making her way to the training room. It is only when Adam places a heavy hand on his shoulder that he realises he was following her, like a moth to flames.</p><p>“She needs to focus on training. Leave her be.” Adam’s tone is as firm as his grip on Mason’s shoulder, but his eyes have an unbearable softness to them, an <em>understanding</em>, and Mason feels himself sag in defeat.</p><p>“But—”</p><p>“For now, at least.”</p><p>Mason manages an hour, give or take, before he cannot help himself. His feet carry him to the training room and he barely listens to check whether there is anyone in there with her when he pushes the door open and slinks in.</p><p>Were this another day, he would be very happy to stand and admire the lines and curves of her body, the way her muscles shift as she pummels the shit out of the training dummy (and he realises with a start that she <em>has</em> muscles now, that she has been training more and that even her body has changed since that day at the chain-link fence).</p><p>He taps her on the shoulder with a nonchalance he doesn’t feel, and grunts as she swings round and punches him in the stomach, <em>hard</em>.</p><p>“Ok, I deserved that.”</p><p>For a moment, her eyes widen and he hears her heartrate pick up as it always used to when she saw him. Then, the shutters come down and she looks at him coldly.</p><p>“I’ll be out of your way in a moment, Agent.” Riona turns away from him then, and it’s like the sun’s gone out.</p><p>“Riona—”</p><p>“Detective.” Her tone is sharp, sharper even than with her fucking <em>ex, </em>and that stings even more than her words. “We’re colleagues, nothing more.”</p><p>“Riona, <em>please</em>.” Mason has never begged in his life (at least, not that he can remember amidst the fog and the thick, brick walls) but it comes naturally to him when he’s with her.</p><p>Riona wheels round to face him and she looks like she wants to <em>scream</em>, tears there again (<em>all his fault</em>) and when she speaks it is like she is dying in front of him.</p><p>“What do you <em>want</em>, Mason?” That question hangs in the air for a moment <em>(nothing, everything)</em> until Mason feels his shoulders sag and the fight leave him.</p><p>“I want <em>you</em>.” The realisation that that is <em>true</em>, wholly and utterly, hits like a bolt of lightning, and he repeats it to make sure.</p><p>“You <em>had</em> me.” And he can’t help his intake of air that he no longer needs at the past tense. “You threw me away.”</p><p>
  <em>No, I would never—</em>
</p><p>“I didn’t mean—”</p><p>“Don’t lie.” If she were directing this at someone else, he would be almost proud of the way her spine has straightened and her eyes narrowed, and with her curls frizzed with the humidity in the air she looks almost like a <em>lioness</em>.</p><p>As quickly as her fire had blazed, it drops to an ember, and he cannot help but fixate on the way her lip juts out as she continues speaking. “You <em>meant</em> to hurt me, Mason.”</p><p>“I—” <em>Yes,</em> he thinks, <em>I suppose I did</em>.</p><p>“Go on then.” Her stance is combative, and she has moved a little closer to him now, hands on generous hips and her scent hits like a freight train. “Why?”</p><p>“Because—“ It feels like a moment of clarity when Mason sees her eyes widen in something that looks suspiciously like anticipation as he starts to speak, and now it is his turn to narrow his eyes.</p><p>“You <em>know</em> why.” His tone is accusatory, and just a little playful, and he steps a little closer, hoping that he can fluster her enough, <em>just</em> enough that he does not have to put a name to the feelings he shoves away and leaves to fester like fungi in a dark corner of his mind.</p><p>“I want to hear you say it.” Her heartrate has increased, as he knew it would, but the anger still burns in her eyes as she challenges him, and he <em>likes </em>that, had forgotten just how much he liked it in the long weeks of absence.</p><p>“I was…” Mason lifts his hand as if to touch her face, but manages to resist, and the trill of her heart at that teasing almost-touch is enough to steady his jangling nerves.</p><p>“I was jealous.” Her eyes are warm at that, and it’s like he’s burning under her gaze, lush lips upturned and head cocked to display the column of her throat.</p><p>“And why was that?” Riona has stepped even closer to him then, and her scent is like a drug, pulling him under and—</p><p>And Mason scarce knows what he is doing before he has dipped down to capture her lips, sweet as honey against his tongue, and their simultaneous groans are the last vestiges of their resistance shattering.</p><p>His hands are everywhere, pressing insistently into lush curves, and it still isn’t enough, and when she needs to gasp for breath he moves his lips down to her pulse point and sucks <em>hard</em>, making her jerk against him with a gasp that blurs into a moan.</p><p>“We have to—Not here—” Before she can finish stammering out the thought, his hands are on her behind, hoisting her into his arms and speeding to her bedroom, scarce-used this past month, almost ripping the door off its hinges in his desire to pin her on the bed.</p><p>“You were saying?” Mason’s voice is a growl, and he scrapes still-blunt teeth against her jaw before she drags him by his hair (and <em>fuck</em>, if that isn’t hot) to meet her eyes, face surrounded by sweaty chocolate curls that frame her like a halo. <em>His own angel</em>.</p><p>“Shut up.” Her command is breathy but no less lacking in authority as she bites down on his lower lip, and he feels his hips rut against her instinctively, eliciting another needy moan from her lips that he soon swallows.</p><p>He takes his time undressing her, pinning her to the mattress with one hand, and he can <em>smell</em> her already, heady and sweet in the air and he feels his mouth actually start to <em>water</em>.</p><p>Mason’s jeans are so tight the pleasure crosses the line to pain, and he has to remove a hand from her thigh (and she moans, a quiet, wanting thing, at the loss) to free himself, moaning in relief against the swell of her breast.</p><p>Mason rests his forehead on Riona’s belly for a moment and simply breathes, letting his senses settle and his eyes flutter shut, and if he stays there long enough the rest of the world, harsh and demanding, might fall away.</p><p>But Riona’s fingers, tangled in his hair, grow more insistent the longer he lingers, and the slight pain inches into his bliss. He growls as his teeth drag her soaked underwear down, maintaining eye contact as long as he can as he pulls them off her feet, before planting a small, chaste kiss at her ankle and starting the pilgrimage back up.</p><p>His kisses are barely brushes, and he can feel her thighs start to quiver when he tongues the crease of her inner thigh, already slick with her own arousal.</p><p>“Stop. Teasing.” Riona just about manages to bite out the words around her moans, and he stays stock still for a beat or two before replying, letting his lips brush against her as he speaks.</p><p>“Tell me to stop and I will.” There is teasing there, but his eyes are serious as he studies her for any sign of hesitation, even an unconscious whisper.</p><p>None comes. She nods, worrying her lower lip with her teeth, only releasing it when his breath ghosts over her centre. He licks once, twice—and then he <em>devours </em>her, fixing his mouth to her nub and staying there, bringing fingers to his aid in his quest to bring her to the edge.</p><p>Her low moans urging him on, he grabs a handful of her breast and rolls her nipple between his fingers with a practised touch, feeling her tense around his fingers and smiling into the slick heat of her as he fucks her in earnest, becoming more and more lost in her.</p><p>She’s writhing now, rutting against his face and fingers and muttering obscenities that would make a lesser man blush, and he pins her hips down roughly and growls in warning.</p><p>“Stay.” To soothe her irritation a little, he presses his lips to hers.</p><p>Mason only meant to give her a soft kiss, something to tease, nothing more – but she bucks her hips up at him to relieve her own tension and his tongue answers, licking into her mouth until they are both trembling with want.</p><p>“Mason—Mason, <em>please</em>.” He can’t resist that – how can he, when he feels himself twitch at the very word, let alone the way her warmth brushes against his length as she cants her hips up to meet him – and he pushes into her in one long motion, moaning in harmony with her.</p><p>It is like nothing has changed, and <em>everything</em> has changed.</p><p>Mason is drowning under waves of things he never thought he even wanted, drinking in her moans and returning his own, low and needy even to his own ears. The waves crest and fall with every thrust, and his nerve endings are blazing, and he thinks that burning alive with Riona would be the only way he would want to go.</p><p>Her breathing is ragged now, pulses of air hitting his jaw with every thrust, and her voice can give nothing more than pants and faint pleas, though his favourite sound is when she moans his name like it’s a prayer.</p><p><em>My favourite music</em>.</p><p>“Make me sing, then.” Stormy grey eyes meet mischievous hazel, and the mischief in them turns to rapture as he pounds into her and—</p><p>And she <em>sings</em> for him, curling up around him as if she means to keep him and <em>fuck</em>, this is the best it’s ever been, with her or with anyone, and they fuse together, one soul, one body. Mason isn’t sure what he babbles in his bliss, only that he knows it to be true and that she gasps at his words while he is still inside her, and the sensation of it nearly sends him tumbling again.</p><p>Mason, unwilling to be parted from her for too long, speeds to the bathroom for a cloth, his skin already aching for contact after a short, cold period of absence.</p><p>He holds her close to him after he has cleaned them, rubbing any lingering tension and knots out of the muscles of her back and feeling his skin heat again where it makes contact with hers.</p><p>“I missed you.” Mason whispers his admission into her hair, when he is sure that she is drowsy enough.</p><p>“I missed you too.” Riona murmurs her answer, before her breathing evens out and her muscles relax in his arms, and he realises that he never wants her to leave.</p>
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